358. Clear Victory

An item killer, Dallion’s blood boiled.

That was a normal aspect of the all-out attackers, it seemed. Back in Dherma, Veil used to torture items, breaking and repairing them just for fun. At the time, Dallion strongly disliked the practice, and that was before he had become an empath. Knowing that there were people who deliberately destroyed items filled him with so much rage that for a moment Dallion wanted to kill his opponent.

The harpsisword remained on the ground along with the Flameforger’s initial weapon. The intensity of the fight so far had prevented either from claiming them. That was a good thing, since it also prevented Dallion’s opponent from attempting to attack the weapon.

Don’t worry, Harp’s music formed words in Dallion’s realm. The weapons won’t affect me.

They won’t kill me either, just in case you wanted to know, the armadil shield said. It’ll just sting a bit.

Suddenly attack markers emerged, showing Dallion the optimal attack to hit his target.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. However, in his rage, Dallion didn’t even find it odd. Grasping the opportunity, he swung the whip blade. The metal fragments spun in the air, following the suggested trajectory. Dallion’s opponent tried to parry with his daggers. That turned out to be a mistake. Not only was the weapon indestructible, but no guardian had claimed it for its home. Droplets of blood filled the air as the whip blade sliced through the man’s skin, then went on to tear the unprotected part of his clothes and cut into his stomach.

Dallion pulled back his weapon, ready for another attack. As he performed it, though, his weapon stopped mid-air. A green light covered his opponent, causing all his wounds to fade away within moments.

“You’ve won,” a female voice said softly. Turning around, Dallion saw the countess looking at him. There was an amused smile on his face, even if her glance was as hard as diamond. Dallion felt a tremendous amount of pressure, as if his body had become five times as heavy.

Just nod, Nil said. Forget everything you’re doing and nod.

Why? Dallion gritted his teeth. His entire aim was to kill guardians. He must be punished.

It’s no longer about that. If you don’t bow, you’ll make the countess look bad, and she’ll never forgive that.

Dallion went through the options in his head. As much as he fantasized resisting the pressure and punishing the Flameforger, he knew he couldn’t take on a noble, far less one powerful enough to rule a county.

Fighting his rage, Dallion bowed in the noble’s direction. The gesture was acknowledged, for moments later the weight upon his body was lifted. Not only that, but the whip blade fragments fell on the floor with a cling. Another round had ended and while Dallion had won, he didn’t feel any satisfaction from the fact.

Taking his sword, Dallion left the grid without a word, returning back to the arena. Still in shock from his loss, his opponent didn’t say a word, and that was better. Dallion didn’t know how he would have reacted if the man had provoked him further.

Well, congratulations, Nil said, although even he didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it. You pretty much made it to the top hundred. From here on, you’re bound to be acknowledged.

Right now, Dallion didn’t care about that. Brushing aside the praise he received from organizers as he made his way through the corridors of the arena, emerging on the street. For quite a while, he continued to mindlessly wander about the city, his mind fixated on the last attack he could have made. It was only in the midafternoon, once his hunger had become unbearable, that Dallion slowly went back to thinking straight.

That was rather unexpected, Nil said. Are you feeling better, dear boy?

Yeah, Dallion replied. I’m not sure what went over me.

That’s your path’s drawback, the echo explained. All who are selected to walk a path of the Moons get to experience the limitations brought by their choice. In your case, you’ll find it much more difficult not to react when guardians are hurt, especially deliberately.

The drawback of a path. That was to be expected. There was no external requirement, no rectangles forcing Dallion to do anything, no Moon shouting at him. Instead, there was a deep feeling inside, guiding him. It was different from a limiting echo, different from a flaw… rather, it was a principle that guided him. Dallion had always had an inclination to end things with a draw of the other’s surrender. This had transformed into feeling unexplained rage at people who deliberately hurt and killed items. The scary part was that it made him want to do the same to those people.

The fights at the arena continued, but the majority of the attention was focused on Dallion. Not only had he ended the encounter early, but he had made it necessary that the organizers get involved. Or was it the organizers? Their powers didn’t extend to that level.

As he made his way out of the grid, Dallion glanced in the direction of the countess. She seemed at ease, looking at the rest of the fights. Not too far away, the lord Mayor seemed to be doing the same. Neither were paying particular attention to Dallion, though with their level of perception they didn’t have to—their peripheral vision was so developed that they could simultaneously see the entire field of the arena as well as most of the stands. The mage, and the imperial, in contrast, were staring straight at him.

You’ve found yourself a fan, Nil said. That was your goal, right? Better be more careful. Attention always brings trouble.

From the mage? Dallion asked.

No. The mage had already set his sights on you before the tournament. If anything, his hands are tied. Despite all his pomp, he couldn’t afford to do anything that would displease his young master.

That was perfect. Dallion was approaching the point to use his newly found influence. Naturally, he had to be careful about it—he didn’t want to insult the countess in the process.

How strong is the imperial? Dallion asked as he entered the arena halls.

That depends. He’s not in control of anything, so he might be your level or less. That’s not the point. Harming a member of the imperial house is the same as harming the emperor himself, and the emperor doesn’t like when others don’t know their place. Wars have started for less.

The notion was sobering, quickly dispelling any thoughts of Dallion, measuring his skill against the countess’ guest. More than likely, he was some distant cousin of little significance, but as Nil said, that didn’t matter.

Jiroh should know this better than anyone, Nil went on. Furies attempted to take on a border fort not too long ago. They succeeded too. It turned out, however, that one of the captains in the fort’s defenses was a member of the imperial family. The girl was no one of significance, gone to the border with the sole aim of proving her skills and gaining some glory in the process. When the emperor learned what had happened, the response was swift and brutal. A third of the empire’s armies marched out, crushing the fury kingdom in question and all others they could reach.

The empire killed Jiroh’s parents?

It’s a bit more complicated. I don’t know the details, but from what Hannah told me, that seems likely. Despite their individual strength, the furies were never a united front. Part of that was due to all other countries uniting against them every chance they got since the fall of the dryads. With them being the strongest remaining race, it was feared they might be the next to have a go at world domination. Nonsense if you ask me, but enough people believed it. Since then, the furies are little more than mercenary kingdoms, selling their services to the highest bidder.

That explained why the general had so many of them as bodyguards. Of all his problems, the lack of money wasn’t one.

Dallion was given a fruit basket on his way out of the arena. From what he understood, the practice was that after each round from now on, all victors would be given a “token gift” in recognition of their skills. The higher the round, the more valuable the gift.

What’s this? Dallion asked as he picked up one of the fruits. There were five in total, each was the size of an apple, though with the appearance of a grape. It was definitely something Dallion hadn’t seen before.

Waterfruit, Nil explained. Imported from the provincial capital. The Archduke is particularly proud of them. It’s what the same says—a fruit that’s almost entirely water. The awakened prefer it to drinking from a glass or flask.

Cautiously, Dallion took a bite. It was every bit what Nil had described. The closest it could be compared to was a seedless watermelon. The taste, however, was closer to that of a pineapple without the stinging aftertaste.

How come I’ve never seen any for sale here?

Imports of fresh food are expensive and the Archduke wouldn’t allow any other county in his lands to grow any.

The streets were still full of people, though significantly less than before the start of the festival. It seemed that for the most part, they had gathered at the arena and other places of interest. There was a noticeable presence of city guards. While the countess’ personal troops still were around the arena, there were guards at every intersection. From a strategic point of view, they were placed in such a way so as to quickly notice and stop any disturbance. More notably, this wasn’t something that had happened the previous days. Dallion tried to think back whether he had seen anything of the sort. It was difficult to be sure, but his intuition told him that this was a very development.

Upon reaching the Gremlin’s Timepiece, Dallion noticed that it too had changed significantly. In terms of real time, it had been a day since he’d been at the inn. In reality, close to a month had passed. All the tables outside had been removed despite it being morning. What was more, the crowds had gone.

Somewhat on edge, Dallion opened the door and went inside. To his relief, there were quite a lot of customers here, although for the most part they were regulars.

“Hey, Dal!” one of them shouted. “Been a while since you served. I hear you’re off showing off at the arena nowadays.”

“Yeah, something like it.” Dallion smiled. It was almost difficult to imagine that the first few months upon arriving here, he had served everyone in this room with a smile. Back then, he was the hot new thing of the neighborhood, having people rush to have him repair or improve an item.

“Well, best of luck. To be honest, though I wish this whole festival thing to be done with. It’s fun every now and again, but not all the time. There are crowds everywhere. You and the awakened are busy taking part in various events. Most of the improvement shops are closed…”

“I know. Just hang in there.”

Dallion was curious what event the Luors had gone to. Being sort of nobility and invited by the countess, he would have expected them to spend their time close to the elite. In theory, it was possible for Gloria to be involved with her troupe, but considering her level of awakening, that seemed less likely. For one thing, she didn’t seem like someone who’d be content with remaining a background performer.

Strangely enough, there was no sign of Hannah. Normally she would be there at the bar, cleaning glasses and grumbling, but today that wasn’t the case. In fact, there wasn’t anyone from staff present.

Dallion went up to his room. He was just about to toss his gear on the bed when he saw someone was already there. To make matters worse, Dallion had seen the person before when he had faced the first Vermillion.

“Congrats on your third round, Dal,” a man covered in tattoos said. “Let’s have a chat.”